Dying Embers
by itschristina143
Summary: Edmund Sharp was the man who made Tom Riddle the way he is now.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Edmund Sharp scanned the great hall, searching for one particular person; Tom Riddle. He had taken quite a bit of interest in the younger boy, who, like him, had proven himself exceptionally talented. In fact, Tom Riddle had a _lot_ in common with Edmund. Both were darkly handsome, often using their charm to their advantage, and both were sorted into the house of Salazar Slytherin the moment the sorting hat perused their minds.

Tom Riddle entered the great hall with half a dozen Slytherin girls by his feet. Edmund narrowed his eyes; there was something vaguely different about him at this moment, his usually emotionless eyes glittering with ambition. Then it hit Edmund – Tom Riddle had _definitely_ been practicing the dark arts. Edmund himself was no stranger to the wonders of dark magic; he had been practicing the Cruciatus curse for the last couple of months. However, unlike the younger boy, he had managed to hide the sudden emotion his newfound abilities gave him with greater tact.

"Edmund," Vienna Parkinson, a Slytherin chaser called from the entrance of the great hall. "We've got Quidditch practice in half an hour."

Edmund eyes rested on the plain girl for a split second before turning his gaze back to Tom Riddle.

"I'll be there." He replied shortly without looking at the girl.

Tom Riddle was talking to a blonde Slytherin girl in his year. Edmund decided that she was somewhat attractive, but she _definitely_ wasn't worth Tom's time. He took a closer look at the two, and recognized the girl as Bethany Greengrass, an easily manipulated girl whom he often allured to do his dirty work. From the fazed look on Bethany's face, Edmund could tell that Tom was doing the same.

Edmund got up from the table and excused himself from his friends. He fixed his dark hair and headed towards the other edge of the Slytherin table. When Tom Riddle saw the older boy walking towards him, he felt his palms dampen. Even though the two boys never had a single conversation, Tom had heard enough about Edmund Sharp to know that he was not someone to be undermined.

"Hello Tom. May we have a moment in private?" Edmund's smile brimmed with his trademark charisma, but was juxtaposed with a voice that was unmistakably steely and almost commanding.

Tom appeared taken aback, but quickly replaced his surprise with a calm expression as he stood up and followed Edmund out of the crowded great hall.

When the two dark haired boys reached the empty Slytherin common room, Edmund sat down on one of the aged black leather couches. He smiled coldly at the younger boy, who attempted to appear nonchalant but was unmistakably tense.

"I know you are practicing the dark arts." Edmund looked straight at Tom Riddle. Their identical eyes met – the first pair shone in victory; the second pair appeared lost.

Tom Riddle had never been more horrified in his 14 years of life. His fate now rested in the hands of the malicious 17 year old boy. If Edmund chose to tell the headmaster about this, Tom's entire life would be ruined – he would be put in Azkaban, like every other practitioner of the dark arts.

"Are you going to tell Headmaster Dippet?" Tom asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Ah, that," Edmund Sharp smirked. "I've got Quidditch practice later. Perhaps we can discuss this at the tower this evening."

Without waiting for a reply, Edmund got up from the leather couch and sauntered out of the Slytherin common room, leaving Tom Riddle, whose terrified look had now been exchanged for one of pure anger.


	2. Chapter 2 (part 1)

Chapter 2 (Part 1)

The view from the Astronomy tower was rather fascinating, even on a starless night. On the top of the tall tower stood two dark haired boys, not talking, just gazing at the brilliant view.

"Are you going to tell Headmaster Dippet?" Tom Riddle asked, refusing to meet the older boy's dark eyes.

"I should," Edmund leant against the windowsill. "I mean, I am a _prefect_."

Tom Riddle looked at his feet, trying not to show any emotions; he didn't want to give the older boy the satisfaction. He frankly wouldn't mind if Edmund had told Headmaster Dippet; Tom could _easily_ persuade the old fool otherwise. It was Dumbledore he was worried about; he was the single teacher that Tom Riddle would always fail to charm. The old transfiguration professor would _always_ see through Tom's acts, and as much as he hated to admit it, Albus Dumbledore was _very_ clever.

Edmund's gaze remained on the younger boy, a small smile on his symmetrical face. He was winning, as usual. Tom Riddle was remarkably cunning and very smart, but so was Edmund, and he held another great advantage; he was older. Back in his fourth year, Edmund Sharp wouldn't be so sure that he could manipulate someone such as Tom Riddle. But now, he was _much_ more experienced.

"But you _aren't_ going to tell him, are you." After studying the boy across from him for a few seconds, a smirk suddenly appeared on Tom Riddle's pale face. His irksomely conceited look returned.

"No, I'm not," Edmund looked down at the younger boy with an expression you could only consider cruel. "And if you were half smart as I thought so, you would have figured out why."

Tom Riddle scowled, his eyes narrowing, making his highly attractive face look almost ugly. How dare that imbecilic prefect insult his perfectly high intelligence, Tom thought, when he took over the Wizarding world, Edmund Sharp would have his worthless life taken away. He glanced at the obnoxious boy in front of him. It irritated him that he had a charming smile on, he knew that Edmund Sharp was most likely as frustrated as him, but he was impressively good at hiding it. He would have stalked right out of the Astronomy tower, but he knew that if he did so, Edmund, being the irritating brat he is, would go straight to Professor Dumbledore and tattle on him like a little girl. But as aggravated as he was, Tom Riddle couldn't help wondering what the reason was. He knew that if you didn't report to the headmaster about something involving the dark arts, you would get expelled. All Tom Riddle knew was that Edmund Sharp's purpose had to be very important to him.

Edmund Sharp was definitely irritated, and perhaps even a little anxious, but he didn't lose his winning smile. This was highly frustrating, even for someone such as him. Tom Riddle was certainly not a person you could insult and get away with it. And even if he had made it seem like he wasn't going to seek vengeance, Edmund knew that he was just putting on an act and waiting for the right time to hurt the unlucky person. It was obvious to him that Riddle thought that he could do the same to Edmund, that Edmund was like all the other pathetic excuses of wizards he had harmed. The younger boy thought that Edmund exactly like the other Slytherin prefects – rich, stuck-up, selfish, _stupid_. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Ever since he was five, Edmund's father had told him all about those filthy Muggles and Muggle-born wizards. About how they burnt witches and wizards because they were stronger and more powerful than them, about the disgusting things they do. He, like most other wealthy, pureblood wizards of Slytherin ancestry had been taught to hate Muggles, but the huge difference between them was that while they were content with insulting their Muggle-born classmates and embarrassing the professors during Muggle Studies, Edmund wasn't. He was going to conquer the Wizarding world, end the life of every single Muggle-born and Muggle.

"You and I have a lot in common, Tom. Why don't you join me?"


End file.
